


Tick Tock Goes the Clock

by PenguinTrippin



Series: He's a Ticking Time Bomb [2]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Hiro's Age is Undisclosed, M/M, Sibling Incest, be careful when reading, i mean it's kind of non-con, i'm sorry i have no idea how to tag this OTL, slightly nsfw, somnophilia? i think?, stockholm kind of?, this is dark guys, warning that hiro's super possessive, yandere!hiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinTrippin/pseuds/PenguinTrippin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honey Lemon sees wide brown eyes that glimmer brightly back at her; she sees eyes full of childish glee and mischief. Tadashi sees a quiet, simmering hatred, a dark twisting possessiveness that flickers behind a façade of innocence.</p><p>She sees naivety. He sees calculated corruption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tick Tock Goes the Clock

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't totally planning on extending Obsession - a oneshot from forever ago - but I wanted to do something with Tadashi's perspective, so here it is! It's not strictly necessary to read Obsession to get this, but it ties into it so it might help /o/
> 
> EDIT: LOL WHOOPS I FORGOT TO ADD A SUMMARY someone kick me

Hiro’s a ticking time bomb.

And Tadashi - Tadashi just wishes he couldn’t hear the countdown.

*

Honey Lemon sees wide brown eyes that glimmer brightly back at her; she sees eyes full of childish glee and mischief. Tadashi sees a quiet, simmering hatred, a dark twisting possessiveness that flickers behind a façade of innocence. 

(She sees naivety. He sees calculated corruption.)

Gogo would never admit it, but her lips always quirk up ever so slightly when the small teen comes bounding up to her and Tadashi, chirping a sunny ‘What’re you guys up to?’ as he went. 

She confides in him later that she thinks it’s endearing. 'It's cute that your brother cares about you so much,' she says. Tadashi might have agreed, if he didn’t feel the crescent bites of small fingernails digging deep into the fragile skin of his wrist. He might have agreed in another world, one where his little brother, his loving, snarky, genius baby brother didn’t wear cold acid jealousy behind a veil of wide grins and tooth gaps. 

(He wants to save her from the inevitable blaze of cruel vengeful fury. The clock ticks down.)

Hiro blends in beautifully with the guys. Wasabi has no qualms with fondly messing with the head of soft inky hair, and Fred regales tales of flame-spitting web-swinging supervillains to young half-attentive ears. Once upon a time, Tadashi did the same. But that was a time before childish demands of ‘hug, ‘Dashi, hug!’ became embraces that lingered just a beat too long and hot pulses of breath and unsaid desire next to Tadashi’s ear.

(If Tadashi lets Hiro have his way, maybe he can set the timer back.)

He doesn’t know how this happened. Had he been too close, too smothering? Since their parents passed so many years ago, he had held his little brother close – he would let all hell and fire rain down before he would let go of that small hand. He had vowed, as he watched the caskets lower slowly into the gaping holes in the wet earth, that he himself would cover Hiro’s eyes so that his baby brother would never have to see tragedy again.

He thinks he's done that much well at least. But maybe his dedication was too much, and this is how he pays for it. Maybe the affection he showered onto his brother – the one remaining piece of his family, the one person who truly mattered – had curdled into a poison. 

Tadashi wonders how he didn't notice until now.

(Maybe it's his fault.)

It had started with petulant demands that he stay home. Hiro would pout, lip jutting out comically far, whining ‘do you _reeeally_ have to go to that party?’ and Tadashi would laugh and muss his brother’s wild mess of hair to the tune of indignant squeals. Even if Hiro swindled and pleaded and pressed buttons only as he would know how, all just to make his brother stay with him, Tadashi thought nothing of it. Tadashi needs Hiro like a lifeline, and it’s only right that Hiro needs him as well.

But the demands became quieted, slowed, until it stopped altogether. Hiro never pestered Tadashi to stay anymore, and Tadashi might once have let himself believe that it was because Hiro was finally growing up. He knew better now. He knew from the way Hiro’s expression darkened, from the way Hiro’s eyes followed him when he left, from the mysteriously deleted contacts in his phone, from the angry shreds of paper and the sparkling shards of broken glass that littered the ground when he came back home.

(Maybe it's his responsibility.)

This obsession festered, as all obsessions do. But Tadashi, Tadashi doesn't know _when_.

He doesn’t know when his beautiful, delicate baby brother began sneaking to his bedside. He doesn’t know when the light feathery touches started, when the courage to press gentle lips to his throat was developed, when lithe fingers began to trace the contours of his body. All he knows is he woke one night to the cold still air against his bare abdomen, to the fabric of his shirt bundled heavily on his chest, to delicate, careful fingers caressing his face _oh so_ tenderly.

I should put an end to this, he thinks. I should set things straight, end this unhealthy obsession.

He feigns sleep, and the moonlight watches on.

(Maybe he can delay the storm. Maybe he can save his friends, his family.) 

He begins waking regularly. Sometimes he wakes to kisses that are peppered down his chest, sometimes it’s to hands that ghost over his cheekbones. He’s long since perfected the art of keeping his breaths long and slow, of throwing an arm over his head or a subtle shift in his posture to jolt Hiro back into more cautious touches when his presses became too bold, of letting out breathy sigh here, a weak whimper there. Of letting Hiro do as he wishes.

Hiro’s a ticking time bomb, and Tadashi’s the only one who can hold it off. 

(But what about himself? Who would save him when he gets caught in the aftermath?)

As the months drag on, Hiro becomes bolder. 

It scares him, sometimes, how far he’s willing to let Hiro go. It scares him that where he should feel repulsion, he feels numb. When the bed dips slightly as hands are placed on either side of him, he holds his breath. When soft, warm lips are pressed to his forehead, his heart pounds against his sternum and he hears rushing in his ears. When kisses are trailed down his chest, the presses fluttering, barely-there, his stomach ties and settles into a knot. When deft fingers trace their way the nubs of his chest, he has to forcibly push away the image of a wide mischievous grin, of a set of beautiful dark eyes gleaming back at him, drawing him in.

(He wonders if he deserves saving.)

 _Tick tock, tick tock,_ goes Hiro. 

_Can you defuse me?_

_Can you?_

_Can you?_

I can, thinks Tadashi, I can.

When Hiro’s small hands hesitate near the waistband of his pyjamas, Tadashi strengthens his resolve. When Hiro softly – oh, so, very softly – slips a hand under the loose band, he blinks his eyes open. And when Hiro reaches further down to gently palm him through cotton fabric, he props himself up on one arm. When Hiro stiffens, he breaks the dense silence with a soft whisper. 

‘Hiro,’ he says.

The hands shoot away but before he knows what he’s doing, he snatches Hiro’s thin wrist. A wild heartbeat flutters erratically against Tadashi’s fingers, and Hiro’s eyes are wide and frantic and pleading and a brittle voice fills the air with stammered excuses. 

Tadashi wonders when Hiro became so good at deception.

(He wonders if he _wants_ saving.)

This needs to stop, he thinks. 

“It’s okay, Hiro,” is what he says instead. 

Wide dark eyes watch him warily through the glow of the moonlight that peeks through the window. He sits up and tugs at the wrist in his hand. Hiro obligingly slides onto the bed, straddling him as he pushes himself into a sitting position. In a smooth fluid movement, Hiro leans over to press his forehead against Tadashi’s, draping himself onto his brother as the elder slides a hand under Hiro’s shirt, running it along the notched ridges of Hiro’s spine. He feels the slight tickle of silky ebony strands against his eyelids, he senses the tender caress of warm breath on his lips. 

(He wonders if he’s too far gone.)

He presses his dry, chapped lips to Hiro’s neck. He feels warm skin shift slightly as his younger brother swallows tightly, he hears a soft gasp disturb the heavy silence of the night.

He sees Hiro’s eyes gleam under the moonlight.

(He wonders.)

_(He wonders.)_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at trippin-those-penguins! Hit me up bruh


End file.
